Anyone who grew up in reading
the comics in the 1960s would agree that if you wanted a realistic
view of childhood it wasn't The Family Circus or Miss Peach,
it was Peanuts. It wasn't the first strip to portray childhood
as something other than moonbeams and rainbows, of course; Percy
Crosby's "Skippy" comes to mind. Childhood is a Darwinian
struggle where kids have anxieties, neuroses, fears, dreams and
pressures. Okay, it's not a Dickensian nightmare unless you grew
up as a street urchin in Victorian London or had to continually
hear stories of the Great Depression. On the whole the average
kid's life is closer to the experiences of Charlie Brown, Linus,
Lucy and Sally than Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm. As a lifelong
fan of the strip, I've often wonder what would happen if Charlie
Brown hadn't been so good natured. What if the stress and anxiety,
the late nights of staring up at the ceiling finally caught up
with him?

Charlie Brown woke up that
morning with a mission. He had had enough abuse, not only on
the baseball diamond but also at the hands of the kids in the
neighborhood. They blamed every loss on his poor pitching. Okay,
he admitted to himself that he wasn't a great pitcher, every
batter seemed to rip the very clothes off his back as he spun
in the air. But he was always optimistic, never gave up, never
quit. Still, he knew they held it against him because every Halloween
he got a sack of rocks instead of candy. Good grief, he thought.
But he had saved them all from every humiliating trick or treating
session, piling them in his room as a grim altar to his pain.
Now he was going to put some of those rocks to good use. For
as long as he could remember that bitch Lucy had pulled the football
out from under him. Sap that he was, he fell for it every time.
Lucy was the she-devil of the neighborhood; Lucifer in a pink
dress. She'd offer to hold the ball again but this time there'd
be no second chances, this time HE'D have the upper hand! After
a light breakfast he stepped out into the bright morning sun.
Picking up the heavy sack and his worn leather football, he knew
that Lucy would be down at the playground. He walked down the
sidewalk of the seemingly benign neighborhood, the scene of so
many cruel torments at the hands of the other kids and the "WAH
WAH WAH" of the adults as they took no notice. It was as
if they didn't exist except as off screen voices. Well, they'd
notice now. They'd all notice. He spied Lucy at next to the water
fountain talking to Violet and the boneless cat she always seemed
to be carrying. Lucy saw the football and once again offered
to hold it for Charlie Brown to kick. Playing the innocent fool,
he agreed. Good Old Charlie Brown. After today they'd never call
him that again. Lucy was so focused on the thrill of pulling
away the ball once again that she barely noticed the sack in
Charlie Brown's hand. As he ran up she could barely contain her
glee at the frustration and humiliation she would inflict on
him. But this time, at long last, the surprise was hers. Charlie
Brown stopped short of the ball, gave her a knowing look and
with one swing struck her with the sack of rocks. Once he started,
the satisfaction flowed through him like electricity, gaining
power with each blow. THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! It's how Lizzie
Borden must have felt, he thought as the warm blood and brain
matter splashed him, the ultimate power, the taking of a human
life. The exhilaration was almost too much to bear as he struck
again and again and again. Then it was over. It was as though
a great weight were lifted off his shoulders He gently put down
the blood sodden bundle and calmly waited for the police, thumbing
through an old copy of "Catcher in the Rye". He should
have been shocked by the carnage he had wrought, but he was curiously
detached. He stayed there until the police came, quietly reading
his book, relieved, almost happy. He'd never really been happy
until now. For once his stomach didn't hurt and he wasn't filled
with dread. This is how peace of mind feels, he thought. Revenge
is sweet.

The other kids gathered around,
happy in their own unspoken way that they were rid of the harpy.
"It's funny", said Schroeder as they led Charlie Brown
to the police car, "I always though Linus would be the one
to snap first".